


Jaskier is happy. Truly, he is.

by Onceuponadisneypotter



Series: Loving you is the most beautiful thing I have ever done [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Feels, F/M, Found Family, Inspired by Fanart, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Unrequited Love, it's a Yennefer/Geralt endgame but a Jaskier/Geralt mindset, just one without room for Jaskier, no beta we die like renfri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 09:27:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24847525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onceuponadisneypotter/pseuds/Onceuponadisneypotter
Summary: As long as Geralt is happy, Jaskier is happy. Even if that happiness does not include him.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Loving you is the most beautiful thing I have ever done [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1800448
Comments: 22
Kudos: 174
Collections: Interesting Character and/or Interesting Relationship Development





	Jaskier is happy. Truly, he is.

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by ['Loving You Is the Most Beautiful Thing I've Ever Done'](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/636109) by spielzeugkaiser.tumblr.com. 



> So put on a face mask (the self-care one, not the anti-COVID one) & scrolled through Tumblr during the 15 minutes it has to stay on your face. And I saw this fanart [linked in 'inspired by' & End Notes] and started writing and now this thing has been on my face for FAR TOO LONG but hey, you need to make Sacrifices For Your Art™ I guess (no you don't please don't do that, that's a very unhealthy way to live) anyway I hope you enjoy this! It does not have a happy ending for Jaskier, although it does for everyone else, I guess.

Jaskier is happy. Truly, he is. 

"Come on, Roach, just a little further." The Witcher is walking next to his horse, upstream, gently petting her as they make their way through the perilous, fast water."Just a little bit further, Roach. You can do it!"

Meanwhile, Jaskier trudges behind them, trying his absolute best not to drop the lute he is holding far above his head into the water, trying his best to keep his footing and not go down. He can swim, of course, that's not the problem, but in this wild water he is unsure if he will be able to get out of the river before hitting his head on a rock and that would be the end of Jaskier the Bard. 

He makes it, though. Luckily, for that would be a pitiful way to go. If he is to die young, he at least wants his heart to be eaten by a dragon or something. However, exiting the river leads to a second, even less exciting danger: hypothermia. 

One look at Geralt shows that he cannot expect any help from him. Not that Jaskier expected it, but he still feels a pang of pain. No, the Witcher does not care for Jaskier, because Roach is shivering on her legs. In the time it had taken for Jaskier to drag himself out of the water and carefully place his lute - luckily still dry - on a rock away from anything that's wet, Geralt had removed Roach's saddle and is now, with an intense look, rubbing her dry with a handful of grass. 

"That's a good girl, you're so brave! You did great!" 

Jaskier knows Geralt doesn't think he can hear him, so he ignores it. Instead, he tries to squeeze all the water out of his clothes and goes for a run up and down the riverbank. 

It is during one of the laps back upstream that Jaskier sees it. Geralt, a heap of discarded wet grass next to him, is rubbing Roach's flank when the horse turns and presses her head against Geralt's back. The Witcher turns, smiles, whispers something Jaskier can't hear, and leans into Roach's touch. The white-haired man, relaxed against the bowed head of his horse, with closed eyes and a face of total, utter bliss. 

And Jaskier is happy. Truly, he is. For Geralt deserves love, regardless from who it comes. And Roach? Well, she has got plenty of love to give. Jaskier turns for another lap alongside the riverbank. He follows Geralt for a week whilst suffering a fever and isn't able to sing for the next month because of pneumonia, but every time he sees Geralt's soft touches and quiet encouragements for Roach, Jaskier smiles. 

* * *

They're staying the night in an inn for once, a happy relief after the 17 days (Jaskier kept count) on the cold forest floor. It was nearing autumn, and every morning Jaskier could see his icy breath. Geralt was brooding, as ever, and nothing Jaskier said could cheer him up. Instead, the Witcher was just nursing his ale whilst occasionally sending deathly glares to the bard in front of him. Suddenly, however, he looked up and he - Jaskier blinked to make sure, but it was true. Geralt smiled. Jaskier turned to look what had provoked this uncharacteristic burst of happiness in his (not  _ his,  _ never his) Witcher and sighed. In the doorframe of the old inn stood a familiar figure. 

"Yennefer!" 

The sorceress' concentrated face turned into a smile upon hearing the rough voice call out to her. 

"Geralt! There you are! I saw Roach in the stables so I knew you must be here. How have you been?" 

And before Jaskier could say, well, anything, the woman slid into the seat next to Geralt and the two started talking. Honest to gods  _ talking.  _

“What have you been up to? I heard rumours of a bruxa a few days’ ride north?”

“Not anymore. Took care of it two weeks ago. Managed to lure it into a trap with some pig’s blood. Had to cut the beast’s arms off first, but it kept fighting. Bit me in the arm, the bastard.” Geralt gestured at his upper left arm, where Jaskier knew he had two brand-new, still slightly red, scars. “After breaking its leg I finally managed to kill it though. Didn’t even have to haggle with the alderman for pay.”

Jaskier gaped. Geralt had refused to tell him how he had taken down the bruxa, no matter how much he had begged. And here the Witcher was, just spilling the entire story unprovoked. And that whilst the entire reason the alderman had been so generous was because Jaskier had sung his best, most positive songs about ‘the white-haired hero’ whilst he was away to kill said bruxa.

“Good to hear,” Yennefer said, completely ignoring the bard opposite of her and starting a tale of her own. Jaskier knew when he was unwanted, so, after downing the rest of his ale, he grabbed his lute and approached the innkeeper. He could at least use this time well. 

Within no time, everyone in the dusty old room was paying attention to him, the famous Jaskier gracing this village with his visit. An honour, for sure. Well, not  _ everyone _ . He could see Geralt and Yennefer in the darkest corner of the place chatting, completely ignoring the music, singing and stories Jaskier told between songs. But it didn't hurt. Not really. For, even in the darkness, even when crowded by his own admirers, even whilst singing his most difficult ballad, Jaskier could see that Geralt was happy. Truly happy. So it didn't hurt when he saw the two leave upstairs, even though he had paid for the room. And it even didn't hurt when the innkeeper told Jaskier that the only place left to sleep was the hayloft. Because the next day, and the entire week after, Jaskier could see that Geralt was happy. Truly genuinely happy. 

* * *

Geralt had found him, after the mountain. Not to apologise, no. He had appeared in Jaskier's office in Oxenfurt with his child surprise in tow and essentially demanded that Jaskier would travel with them to Kaer Morhen to teach Ciri everything she needed to know. And Jaskier had agreed. Of course, what else was he going to do? He told himself that he did it for information, to 'keep close to the source', so to say. But Jaskier knew, rationally, that he wouldn't sell any of the information he gained during these travels to anyone. Any good spy knew when secrets should stay secret, and Jaskier was nothing if not a damn good spy. 

The road to the Witcher castle was long and arduous, but Jaskier couldn't help but feel excited to finally see the famed den of wolves. Geralt had never taken him with him during Winter, always dropping Jaskier off in some semi decently-sized city and leaving without a trace. But now, with the entirety of Nilfgaard looking for him and the Lion Cub of Cintra, it was the safest place for Geralt to be. And Jaskier, well. Jaskier was the only academic Geralt knew. Oxenfurt was the best university of the entire Continent, after all. And Jaskier had passed magna cum laude. Not that Geralt knew this, of course. He only knew the bard taught in Oxenfurt because he had heard two travelling bards talk how "professor Jaskier would not approve" of a certain rhyme or melody or whatever. And so he had come to the city, after not seeing each other for twelve years, and Jaskier had left everything to join him once again. The moment Jaskier had laid eyes on the man he knew he would do anything he asked him. So, the three of them had travelled to Kaer Morhen. 

They had been on the road for two weeks when Jaskier spotted it. The soft smile as Ciri enthusiastically pointed at a particularly pretty butterfly, or interesting bird, or ancient tree. The protectiveness when there was even a tiny potential of danger. The care when offering Ciri his pillow so she could sleep better. The soft touches to make sure she was still there, still okay, still alive. And the fondness was clearly mutual. And the Witcher  _ talked.  _ Jaskier soon learned that the two had been travelling together for two months before he had joined, and it was visible. Ciri hung on Geralt's lips, drinking in every word he said. The two trained together, just beginner's stuff, but Ciri took to it like a duck to water. And one night, when they were far enough removed from anyone that Jaskier could play his lute and sing an upbeat jig, the Princess had pulled the Witcher up and made him dance with her. And Geralt was happy. Completely and truly happy. So, Jaskier was too. 

* * *

He should have known that Yennefer would be there too. He had seen Parvetta's powers for himself, so it made sense her daughter had the same gift. Even stronger, if the overheard conversations between Yennefer, Geralt and Vesemir were to be believed. And who better to teach Ciri how to control that chaos than the great Yennefer of Vengerberg herself? The sorceress had not been happy, originally, and Jaskier senses that something had happened between the pair. But she had quickly warmed up to Ciri, and therefore to Geralt. And now the three stood in the courtyard of the Witchers' Castle, training her fighting and magic at once as Jaskier looked down at them from a window. 

Ciri was good. She deflected most of Geralt’s attacks, and Jaskier knew that he was not going easy on her. She also managed to stop or redirect most of Yennefer’s attacks, although the latter still had to give a warning before she did anything. Fighting magic  _ and  _ swords at the same time was still a step too far, but Jaskier would not be surprised if the little Lion would manage it soon. After a particularly strong Aard from Ciri, the Witcher flew back, smacking against Roach, who, like all horses in Kaer Morgen, was allowed to walk free through the open-air spaces in the castle. Jaskier watched as Ciri came running to see if Geralt and Roach were okay, Yennefer rolling her eyes but following, staying close to the girl Jaskier had heard her call 'daughter'. Geralt, of course, had turned around to see if Roach was okay, which she obviously was, pressing her head against the Witcher's chest. 

If he didn't know better, Jaskier would almost believe the four were a normal, little family, living on a farm somewhere. Geralt and Yennefer pressed closely together, Ciri petting Roach and saying something Jaskier couldn't quite hear but must have been hilarious. With a smile, Jaskier got up and walked to the library. He knew there was no space for him in their family. He was the outsider, the professor, there to teach and nothing else. 

In the library, Jaskier grabbed the journal hidden behind a book on the history of Nilfgaardian harp music, gods know why that book was there anyway. It was not like the Nilfgaardians were known for their particular good harp-playing. Quite the opposite, truly.

He opened the journal and, briefly closing his eyes to remember the scene in the courtyard, dipped his quill in the inkpot and started writing.

_ Loving you is the most beautiful thing I have ever done _

_ You deserve beauty  _

_ You deserve to be cared for _

_ The love of the one you really want  _

_ You're the love of my life  _

_ And I guess _

Jaskier sighed and gently wiped away a salt, wet drop on the paper. 

_ And I guess it's alright that I'm not yours  _

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> The ''twelve years'' is from the first of these timelines:  
> https://www.chartgeek.com/the-witcher-timeline/
> 
> This work was inspired by this gorgeous fanart: https://spielzeugkaiser.tumblr.com/post/621012183685447680/i-look-at-jaskier-and-think-that-one-falls-in
> 
> The 'Magna Cum Laude' is from Blood of Elves of Chapter 5 (in my copy, at least)


End file.
